Wigged Out: Hong Kong's Lawyers Bristle Over Horsehair Headpieces

Holdover From British Rule Causes Legal Split; 'It's Magical'

Wig wearing is a 17th-century tradition still evident in Hong Kong courtrooms, but not all lawyers have the right to don the horsehair. WSJ's Te-Ping Chen reports. (Photo: Reuters)

By

Te-Ping Chen And

Allison Morrow

Updated April 30, 2013 12:32 a.m. ET

In hypermodern Hong Kong, a debate over 17th-century fashion is dividing the city's legal circles.

The city's lawyers are among the last in the world to wear judicial wigs, those curly, horsehair headpieces that are a legacy of more than 150 years of British colonial rule. The affection is so great that one group of lawyers that doesn't wear wigs wants the right to don them. The city's wig-wearers are resisting.

The feud has ignited passions over the wigs. "When I wear my wig, I know something big is going to happen," said Jacky Lai, a Hong Kong lawyer. "It makes me feel like I have more responsibility. I think I exude more energy than without it. It's magical."

Others say the wigs, and the robes that go with them, are anachronistic or ill-suited to Hong Kong's subtropical climate. The city's courtrooms are heavily air-conditioned, partly to keep lawyers cool, says lawyer Kevin Tang. "People complain, but it's because all the counsel are dressed up—they have to make sure they don't faint."

The split over wigs mirrors the divide in Hong Kong's legal profession. As in the U.K. and some former British colonies, Hong Kong's lawyers are split between solicitors, who work directly with clients, and barristers, who represent those clients in court. The difference has historically been easy to spot: Barristers, like judges, work in an elaborate uniform of robes topped with hand-woven hairpieces.

Justice Is Blind, but Not Bald

Lawyers in hot, humid Hong Kong are fighting over who should get the privilege of wearing a horsehair headpiece in court.

Judges wearing wigs attend a ceremony to mark the beginning of the new legal year in Hong Kong on Jan. 9, 2012. Reuters

For years, solicitors have been expanding their professional reach into areas traditionally considered barristers' turf. In 2010, solicitors in Hong Kong gained the right to apply for a special status that would allow them to represent their clients in higher courts. But still, barristers are reluctant to embrace more curly-haired colleagues.

"Solicitors should not wear wigs. If we have two professions, we have to represent their demarcation by something obvious, like a wig," says Mr. Lai. "People like the wig. Some may say it's ridiculous, but others see it as an icon of a people who—under the wig—are thinking in a logical, authoritative way."

The wig-wearing class recently won a victory to protect its roots when Hong Kong's chief justice denied a request by the city's solicitors to join its ranks.

Solicitors say they are disappointed by the decision, and that not wearing the cauliflower-style tresses makes them vulnerable to discrimination by jury members who might take them less seriously, says solicitor Dieter Yih, president of the Law Society of Hong Kong, an organization that represents the city's solicitors, which filed the request.

"We're worried that in jury trials there might be a perception that someone wearing a wig is better," says Mr. Yih.

He says solicitors don't plan to immediately re-petition the chief justice but could if they feel like they are being discriminated against in court.

While many barristers praised the justice's decision, Henry Fung, a barrister, said he understands the solicitors' concerns. "The wig makes you look more serious," he says. "It looks more professional."

For an issue involving British legal tradition, the decision surprised some. In 2007, solicitors in England and Wales gained the right to wear wigs "in circumstances where they would be worn by members of the Bar."

ENLARGE

Barrister's wig

Hong Kong's judiciary office said it didn't think bareheaded lawyers would be viewed in a negative light. A government spokesman said barristers and solicitors are two different professions and should stay dressed as such.

Other former British colonies from Barbados to Kenya to India have either completely retired or scaled back use of judicial wigs. Since Hong Kong was handed back to China in 1997, some say the wig has taken on importance as a symbol of an independent judiciary.

"It's a tradition that really dignifies our profession, especially in the context of our commitment to uphold the city's justice," says Mr. Tang.

The city's attachment to British customs is evident elsewhere, including in court etiquette: Judges are often addressed as "My lord" or "Your ladyship" and other court officials are referred to as "Master" or "Your Worship," though flustered novice barristers have been known to mistakenly use terms such as "My mistress" or even "Your holiness."

The barristers' prestige emanates not only from the wig, but because they number in the hundreds, compared with the city's thousands of solicitors. Though solicitors have more training, top barristers are typically better paid and because they appear in court, have higher profiles as well. Even the Cantonese translation for barrister is "big lawyer," while the term for solicitor is simply "lawyer."

"Maybe it's also helpful to the profession to wear wigs," says barrister Mr. Lai. "Because I wear a wig, an expensive wig, you have to pay me dearly."

Solicitor Geoffrey Booth says he is confident that his own abilities will hold up in court, with or without a horsehair headdress. "I think the job you do is more important," he says. "Someone can be dressed in a wonderful outfit and still be completely hopeless."

Occasionally, barristers suffer for the vanity. Two years ago, Mr. Tang recalls a court case that ran until 7 p.m. It was summertime, when temperatures regularly creep above 90 degrees, and after 5:30 p.m., the air-conditioning system automatically turned off.

"It was a central cooling system, so there was nothing anyone could do," he says. "Everyone felt really hot, but we still had to keep our wigs on."

For a brief period before the judge's ruling, the global legal wig industry was excited by the prospect of its first growth spurt in decades. The industry is tiny; the number of wig-wearing lawyers has steadily declined, while the bewigged rarely buy more than one over the course of a career.

Barristers go decades without washing them and will pass them down to younger colleagues upon retirement. A yellowed hue is often prized over the original pearly sheen. "The older it looks, the more experienced you are," Mr. Tang says.

Ajay Hira, of local wig maker Legal Tailor, said inquiries from Hong Kong's lawyers jumped 30% before the judge's decision. He employs two wigmakers who work for several weeks on each piece, which can range in style from what he describes as "all frizzy" wigs to others that consist of a series of fat, sausage-roll curls. Wigs sell for HK$5,400, or just under US$700.

"The calls have stopped now," says Mr. Hira. "While we were looking forward to it, there was always an element of doubt."

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